


and if you really wanted to be kind (you'd have forgiven them a long ass time ago)

by morganlicious



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Character Study, Introspection, arthur n shepard are similar characters idk what u want me to say, at least vaguely, based heavily on arthur morgans convos with the reverend n the sister, purely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-29 00:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganlicious/pseuds/morganlicious
Summary: “If I may, sir,” He inhales, gentle scowls, “I haven’t changed. I’m still a bad man.”
Kudos: 1





	1. renegade

He hears Wrex’s screams, ridiculing his wake, his stride to ending this damn war.

Reflections contribute to his self-flagellation, ravishing scotches articulate his laugh lines, creasing to oppressing forces. His eyes of a preying beast; crew flinch when he’s near.

What has he become? 

Admiral Hackett's elation is no secret - Krogan and Salarian forces offering assistance in any way possible, Shepard murky glance train detail on the replacing finish; Legion should’ve been here with them.

“Shepard,” Hackett interrupts, curiosity striking interest, relocating him back to their primary conversation.

“Admiral?” 

“What’s on your mind, Commander?” He queries, Shepard senses he’s not obligated to deflect nor ignore. He shrugs, never one to open his feelings to others. Hackett jaws noticeably jerks. Uneasy stillness assaulted their inconceivable distance.

“I’ve changed, son,” Hackett tears their growing barrier, an uncharacteristic gesture of genuineness, “I’ve seen the vids - what those bastards did to Earth, to Palaven,” Pausing, their fractured connection unable to mask growing fatigued, “I’m a changed man Shepard, and I’m not going to die from a machine if I can help it.”

Shepard blinks, tasting cheeky flesh.

“If I may, sir,” He inhales, gentle scowls, “I haven’t changed. I’m still a bad man.”

Indeterminate expression, “Maybe your journey hasn’t changed.”

“My journey is coming to an end, Admiral,” He admits, voice betrays wavering. Their awkwardness returns, he licks his lips, awaiting any response; he can hear the Krogan cheers at their false victory.

“I know, Shepard,” The Admiral sighs, distributing his weight one leg to another, “And, I know that you will face the end like a man, like a soldier,” Confidence, aligning to spiraling negatives, “That’s what you, Shepard, a soldier who does his job, and does it right.”

(He desires to be more than that.)

“That’s all I am, sir,” He execrates, venom poisoning his veins, “A fighter, and a  _ killer _ -“

“You lived for what you thought was right,” Hackett hinders his speech, nodding to his own assessment, “And you’ll die for it. But when the time comes, Commander, don’t compromise - you’ll do everything you can to win this war.”

Contagious; cracking a smile on the soldier’s face.

“We’ll see.”

“I know you, Shepard,” Hackett asserts, preparing for their disconnect, “Keep fighting and be true to yourself. Leave the hypocrisy to the council, and people like me - Hackett out.”

“Okay, sir,” Shepard chuckles out, nodding to Hackett’s flash disappearance. 

He doesn’t dare to disrupt airflow, enjoying the lack of scrutinizing eyes; dwindling numbers occupying his ship.

His fists clenched involuntarily, he turns his heel, ready to face reality.


	2. paragon (hackett)

Her scars aren’t disappearing.

She removed her mirror, avoiding any reflection evoking the reminder. Airy praises plague her - crew, Joker, her best friends note her actions to their increasingly suffocating predicament, a needed ray of sunshine.

(Will it ever be enough?) 

Questions linger on her lips, basking in the endless reports of the Crucible, developments underway and improved upon by Rachni and Salarian task forces - an appreciated motion of things going according to plan.

Fingers itch; Hackett’s pause alarms her.

“Something’s on your mind, Commander,” Hackett points out, diverging full attention to her. Her attention finds the railing more appealing.

“It’s nothing of importance, sir” She reluctantly confides; remembering Chakwas advice on disclosing what’s troubling her, teeth riveting her bottom lip, “I fear I’m changing, is all.”

Hackett glance digests, perking up slightly, “We’re all changing Commander - I’ve seen the vids, no different from what you saw on Earth, on Palaven, it’ll be impressive if anyone got out of that unscathed.”

She echos an agreement, realizing she’s at a loss of words, allowing their conversation to scatter. Hackett is aware of it too, unsure how to proceed.

“You’re a fine good soldier, Shepard,” Hackett declares, admiration simmers, “Everything...what you’ve done, what will happen, it’ll all end just fine.”

She’s inclined to believe him; wreak sting her thoughts, her failures tainting her trumpets. Tears overstay their welcome.

“I’m worried I’m going to die, Admiral,” Shepard admits, powerless, permitting salty liquid to trail downwards, guiding each other.

“Maybe,” Hackett doesn’t hesitate, “I felt that way too, for a while now, about myself, about this war,” Exhaling, “But you’ll do what’s right.”

“I don’t know if I can, sir,” She guffaws, admitting to control her breathing.

“You always do,” Hackett counters, Shepard shudders, “Don’t be a hero Shepard, save who you can - and take care of yourself. That’s an order.”

She chuckles, “We’ll see.”

Hackett prepares to disconnect, fingers flow to holographic, “You do, Commander,” Another sigh, hollowed smiles, “If we were all like you, we might’ve avoided this war altogether. Hackett out.”

Mutterings of a thank you escapes, remaining light fixtures emitting Hackett’s former image. Forefingers tap her thigh.

Inhaling, burning exhales; she deserts the com room, reinvigorated confidence surging her psyche.


	3. paragon (samara)

Flashy lights obfuscated bypassing skycars, entrancing her attention, a needed distraction for her wait. She lifts two fingers to her pulse, mentally calculating her papulation.

Her door instantly unlocks, panicking her into a defensive stance. Rushing Justicar faces her, scanning eyes do a once over.

“I came as quickly as I could - what’s wrong?” Touching, the older Asari intimating worry for her, but embarrassing her first thought was Shepard injured.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Shepard smooths over, reaching to massage the back of her neck, “When I saw you were on the Citadel, I wanted to see you again.”

Samara deflates, piquing curiosity.

“We said our farewells, Shepard,” Samara mentions, Shepard shrugs.

“Are we gonna stand on formalities?” She questions, rhetorical, leaving her no reason to answer, a jaunt to her windows - leaving her to only follow.

“These big picture windows,” She continues, apprehensively smiling, “Remind me of our talks in the Normandy.”

Samara regards her, incredulous, deceiving stare, leering the endless skyline.

“This view doesn’t have quite the same effect as the galaxy of stars,” soft exhales, faint smiles, “But I can see where it might make one sentimental.”

Pleased by this development; they enter comfortable tranquility, watching mutating luminosity. Troubling, gulping - she struggles to continue the conversation forward.

“What’s troubling you, Commander?” Samara unfurls it for them, Shepard’s lip twitches.

“That obvious huh?” Shepard retorts, nodding to the couch, granting her to guide her there. 

Comfortable - Anderson possesses good taste - refusing to look at her companion; recording fire crinkles under its own weight.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Samara,” Shepard confess, calluses penetrating smooth skin, resisting the urge to pick them.

“Oh?” Samara encourages her, leaning closer.

“I - I punched an ambassador for sending his fleet to fight the Geth,” She scoffs at the memory, ashamed, “I  _ nearly  _ considered lying to Krogan, lying about the cure just for extra help, I just,” Exhaling frustration, aggressive scars react accordingly, “Maybe I’ve always been like this, maybe I’ve always been a bad person and lived a bad life.” 

“We’ve all lived bad lives, Commander,” Considerate, divorced from any criticism, “but I know you.”

Tilting her head upward, raising one brow, “You know me?”

“I do,” Samara affirms, mystical evaluation crossing her features, “When we were out in missions, you always stopped, helping people and smiling.” 

Radiating warmth resonates in her chest, nostrils constantly exhaling.

“My mom told me when I was younger I always wanted to be a hero - imagining myself helping someone out on the battlefield. I just never imagined it’ll be,” Hand gestures vaguely, “All of this.”

“Life is full of pain, Shepard,” Samara responds in kind, a reassuring lift of her lips, her eyes sparkled more than before, “But there is also love and beauty, you taught me that.”

A slender hand finds Shepards’ shoulder, offering guidance she has long forgotten since her childhood; she wonders if Samara needed this, too.

“Be grateful that you see your life fully for the first time,” Comforting thumbing, combating her eyes desire to cry, searching past the Asari.

“I still don’t believe in anything, after all this time,” Shepard relays, irregular conversational switch. Samara adjusts appropriately.

“Often, neither do I,” Samara concedes, no surviving doubt surfaces, however, “But then, I meet someone like you, and the Code makes sense, once again.” 

Shepard chuckles at that, playfully batting her hand off her shoulder. Her back strikes cushion; she needs to switch the carpeting.

“I guess I’m just,” Shepard begins, lump blocking her articulation, weeps shortly following, “I’m afraid, Samara.” 

She lets her tears shroud her vision, damping outlines of Samara, patient, abiding by her sudden emotional outburst.

“You have nothing to be afraid of, Jane,” Simple, just, solace she required. Palms cleared away the invasive liquids, sniffling any mucus away.

“Let’s just sit here, enjoy each other's company,” the Justicar calmly commanded, resting a hand on Shepards. She rotated her hand around, lacing fingers together. 

Ripples ceased soon after, synchronizing respires assists in her appeasement. Alleviating hardships squeezes to assure Samara's existence, her friendship will not abandon her.

The skycars race the skylines, the fire crackles continue to smolder on the screen.

**Author's Note:**

> songs to listen to: 
> 
> cosmic hero - car seat headrest 
> 
> andy you're a star - the killers
> 
> im proud of you - sam hulick


End file.
